I Learned to Be Alone Before I Was Ready
The way I see myself now is this:
I expect people to understand me without me having to say what’s wrong. And this doesn’t just apply to one area; it’s family, friendships, everything.
Maybe it comes from experience.
Because whenever I try to explain what I’m feeling, I end up being misunderstood even more. Maybe it’s the way I choose my words, or how I deliver them. I’m not sure. But it makes me feel like explaining doesn’t help.
So I stop.
I also realised something else about myself. I don’t say no easily. I do things. I show up. I give. And at the same time, I observe. I notice patterns. But when I finally reach my limit and say no, people don’t take it well. And by that point, I usually don’t care anymore.
That’s the part that has broken a lot of my relationships, all kinds.
Before this, there was still a part of me that would feel hurt. I would question myself. I would wonder if I was the problem.
Now, I just… move on.
The part I hate the most is when I say no, and people start putting words into my mouth. Twisting things. Making it seem like something it’s not. And when I don’t react the way they expect, it turns into something more personal. They attack who I am.
Maybe it makes them feel like they’ve won. But the truth is, I’ve reached a point where I can live without people. I can go without talking to anyone.
They might feel uncomfortable around me. But I don’t feel anything. And that’s the part I’m still trying to understand. Because feeling nothing is different.
It’s not peace.
It’s just… quiet.
A kind of quiet that comes after you’ve been alone for too long, pushing forward on your own, without expecting anyone to walk beside you. And maybe that’s why being alone doesn’t scare me anymore.
It already feels familiar.
